(The fumigation from frankincense)

 

Brass-beating Salians, ministers of Mars,

Who gaurd his arms the instruments of wars;

Whose blessed frames, heav'n, earth, and sea compose,

And from whose breath all animals arose:

Who dwell in Samothracia's sacred ground,

Defending mortals thro' the sea profound.

Deathless Curetes, by your pow'r alone,

Initial rites to men at first were shewn:

Who shake old Ocean thund'ring to the sky,

And stubborn oaks with branches waving high.

'Tis yours in glittering arms the earth to beat,

With lightly-leaping, rapid, sounding feet;

Then every beast the noise terrific flies,

And the loud tumult wanders thro' the skies:

The dust your feet excites with matchless force,

Flies to the clouds amidst their whirling course;

And ev'ry flower of variegated hue,

Grows in the dancing motion form'd by you.

Immortal daemons, to your pow'rs consign'd

The task to nourish, and destroy mankind.

When rushing furious with loud tumult dire,

O'erwhelm'd, they perish in your dreadful ire;

And live replinish'd with the balmy air,

The food of life, committed to your care.

When shook by you, the seas, with wild uproar,

Wide-spreading, and profoundly whirling, roar:

The concave heav'ns, with Echo's voice resound,

When leaves with rustling noise bestrew the ground.

Curetes, Corybantes, ruling kings,

Whose praise the land of Samothracia sings:

From Jove descended, whose immortal breath

Sustains the soul, and wafts her back from death:

Aerial-form'd, much-fam'd, in heav'n ye shine

Two-fold, in heav'n all-lucid and divine:

Blowing, serene, from whom abundance springs,

Nurses of seasons, fruit-producing kings.